Alone
by The 1000th Kiss
Summary: Angel, Mimi, Roger, Joanne, Benny, and Maureen . . . gone. And now Mark is about to lose his last surviving friend as he remembers the others.
1. Gone

**Okay, you should know who this is unless you don't read who writes what fic. So, I've been writing such happy & exciting crap so much that I think I should try writing something sad for a change. I'm propbably gonna cry doin' it. I'll try not to do that though. Before I start, you should (already) know that:**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

This isn't right. It's not right in the least. This shouldn't be happening. Come to think of it, nothing that's led up to this should've happened. None of it. Now all my friends are gone. All except one, but he's not gonna be around for much longer though. I hate to say it, but it's true. He's gonna die and, pretty soon, it'll just be me. Just Mark. We were supposed to be together forever. We were supposed to be happy. We were supposed to open a restaurant. If there was actually a 'we' anymore. There'll never be a 'we' anymore. My friends are gone and, no matter how hard I try, I'll never forget how they left.

First it was Mimi. After about a year and a half after we'd lost Angel, we were all surprised (and slightly frightened) when we found out that Mimi had owed her ex-drug dealer, The Man (as he was better known), a hell of a lot of money. Apparently, he'd given her smack with no up front payment for two years straight as long as she promised to pay up later. And by 'later,' he meant when ever he asked for it. She'd told him she didn't have the money, apologized at least thirty or forty times, and then went to work. At around 12:00 a.m., an hour after Mimi's supposed to be home from work, a detective came to the loft.

He asked if we knew Mimi Marquez and, as soon as that name escaped his lips, everyone expected the worst news possible. And that's what we got. Mimi had been brutally raped and then murdered. The news hit us all hard, but Roger couldn't take losing another girlfriend. Tears fell from everyone's eyes for days, but not mine. My eyes wouldn't let me cry.

Months passed as Roger tried to cope with what had happened to Mimi. He and Collins would go to the cemetery everyday together and visit both Angel and Mimi. They were buried right beside each other. Though it looked like Roger was dealing with everything pretty well, he most definitely wasn't. First April, now Mimi. Who else would he lose? Thinking about this made him start using again. He thought the high would make him happy. And it did . . . for about a minute or so. He wanted the sadness to go away forever so badly that he decided to make it.

Collins had a bunch of old science books that he liked to read when he was bored. There was a red one he showed us that had the mixture of chemicals used for lethal injections. Roger took the book, stole the chemicals from a hospital, mixed them together in his room, and that was that. We found him the next morning dead on his bed with the needle still in his arm. More tears were shed, but my eyes forbade it.

Benny and Joanne died the same way, at the same place, and at the same time. Benny had gotten into some legal trouble and desperately needed a lawyer. Though she was against it 100 percent, Joanne agreed to be his lawyer. The case had gone on for weeks before the jury reached a verdict. Not guilty. Benny and Joanne were happy, but the plaintiff was pissed. He took a gun out of his suit pocket, which I'm still not sure how he managed to sneak a gun into court, and shot them both until he felt they were dead. Again more tears, but none for me.

For a while it was just me, Collins, and Maureen. Everything was fine. We visited our friends (and their lovers) on a daily basis and, as a bonus, Collins wasn't getting majorly sick. The fineness of our lives started spiraling downward when Maureen was diagnosed with breast cancer. She fought so hard to beat it, trying to keep up her normal perkiness. It was a battle that she had lost. Collins demanded to see her as tears poured out of his eyes. When every single doctor told him he couldn't, he used his anarchist ways to push his way past (that includes picking up and throwing someone) every single person that stood in his way, throw the doors of Maureen's room open, run over to her, pick her up, and hold her close as he sobbed and threatened anyone who tried to make him leave. Tears for him. For me, nothing. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't.

Then it was just the two of us. Collins tried to keep the thought of sadness out of his mind, but he failed a number of times. There were just too many memories of everyone everywhere. We stopped going to the Life Cafe. We stopped going to Life Support. Everything was just . . . quiet. That is until Collins caught the flu. I was worried, but he told me not to be. So I wasn't. That is until his flu turned into pneumonia and he was rushed to the hospital. Days went by and his condition got worse and worse. Yet, he never complained.

Now I'm sitting next to his hospital bed. I'm not crying. I'm not moving. And anytime he coughs I barely breathe. I just stare at him. I hate watching him waste away. He's been here doing just that for weeks. I can tell he wants the pain to go away. The suffering to stop. I wanna help him. I wanna take the pain away. But, the only thing I can think of doing is . . . no. I can't do that.

"You alright?" he asks in a raspy voice that sounds somewhat helpless. I simply nod. "You don't have to stay here, you know. You can leave. I'll be . . ." He's cut off by a series of violent coughs. I practically jump out of my chair. He motions for me to sit back down and I do so. Slowly. "It's alright." He coughs again. "You can leave if you really want to."

"I wanna be here," I tell him. "I don't wanna leave you. You could . . ." I don't finish.

"Die?" I nod. "That's my fate Mark. That's been my fate since the little piece of paper said positive. You can go."

I shake my head. "I wanna stay," I say. He shrugs, lays down, and closes his eyes. Seeing a man as strong as him in a hospital bed, hooked to an oxygen tank, and barely clinging to life is . . . terrible. Not only that, but it's sad. Terribly sad. And yet, I don't cry. Even though I have eight reasons to.

1) Angel

2) Mimi

3) Roger

4) Joanne

5) Benny

6) Maureen

7) Collins (pretty soon)

8) It really is the end and I am alone.

**That was depressing to write. :( I'm thinking about continuing this, but I let reviewers decide if I actually do. So review and decide. Mistakes . . . left out or misspelled words . . . sorry.**


	2. I Remember

**I have decided to continue this cause people told me to. And I ALWAYS listen to people (coughnoIdontcough). So anyway, there's gonna be like a lot of flashbacks and things and then later, as a request from ConfusedColumbia26220 (who this is dedicated to), everyone shall reunite in heaven! Yay! **

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

Collins is asleep. At least, I think he is. I mean, he hasn't moved or opened his eyes for quite some time. He's just lying there. Completely still. Is he sleeping? I'm pretty sure he is.

_He must be having a nice dream. _

That's what I tell myself. He _is _asleep. Asleep, not dea-

"Collins," I whisper. I get no answer. "Collins?" I give him a gentle shake and his head shifts to the side as he swats my hand away. I let out a sigh of relief and start thinking about a time at the loft. Our first night there. Ironically, we actually got there at night. Me, Roger, Maureen, Collins and Benny.

_

* * *

__(Flashback: Normal POV)_

"Wow. _All _of us are gonna live _here_?" Maureen asked. Benny shrugged and began to explore the loft, that had already been filled with furniture, with Mark not far behind.

"I guess so. It's the right address," Roger responded as Collins appeared in the doorway carrying three bags on one arm and two on the other.

"I know I'm black and all, but that don't mean I'm goin' do all the work and carry every damn thing!" he said, panting slightly. He dropped all of the bags on the ground.

"I'm black too," Benny said.

"So you say," said a chuckling Collins, receiving a death glare from Benny. Collins stopped chuckling and cleared his throat. "As I was sayin', if ya'll wanna live here, ya'll gotta take your assess downstairs and bring up your own shit!"

"Well, the rest of my shit is too heavy for me to carry. You think a big, strong man like you could be so kind as to help me?" Benny asked sarcastically, picking his first bag up off the floor. Collins growled low in his throat and knocked Benny's bag out of his hand. "Wow. Do I detect a little hostility? How 'bout a hug?"

"How 'bout you get the hell outta my face before I get _really _pissed off?" Collins retorted.

"There _is _hostility." Benny picked up his bag again. "You owe me some flowers and an apology, mister."

"I don't owe you jack shit!"

"God, Collins. Why are you so mean?"

"Why are _you _such an asshole!?"

"Collins, we all know Benny's an asshole. And, like the rest of us, you're just gonna have to deal with it," Maureen said.

"I am not an asshole!" Benny argued.

"Yeah you are. Ever since you've been dating that girl," Mark added.

"Oh yeah. That girl. Isn't her name . . . Muffy or something?" Roger asked.

"Allison!" Benny corrected.

Collins chuckled. "Muffy," he repeated.

"Her name is Allison! Allison Grey to be exact," Benny stated. Collins' jaw dropped.

"Did you just say, 'Allison Grey?'" he asked.

"Sure did," Benny said with a smile.

"_The _Allison Grey?"

"That's right."

"You're seriously talkin' 'bout the rich bitch?"

"Ye . . . hey!" Mark, Roger, and Maureen started laughing. "That is _not _funny! Don't call her that!"

"Oh my God! Collins, how the hell did you even come up with that?" Roger asked, still laughing.

"Well, she's rich and she's a bitch. Put it all together and what do you get?" Collins asked, waiting for an answer.

"**THE RICH BITCH!" **the others, save Benny, said together.

"Exactly."

"You guys are so immature. No wonder you aren't in relationships," Benny said, sitting on the couch and crossing his arms.

"Hello? Marky and I _are _in a relationship. _Together_!" Maureen said as Mark sat next to Benny.

"And I got a boyfriend," Collins added.

"When the hell did you get a boyfriend?" Roger asked.

"You remember Kevin?"

"The homophobe?" Collins nodded. "Yeah. What about him?"

"Let's just say, he ain't a homophobe no more."

"What are you talking ab-"

"Think about it for a while." Roger did just that. for a moment, he didn't understand what Collins was saying. Then it hit him.

"OH. MY. GOD. You didn't," he said.

"Yes, I did," Collins replied, smirking and taking a bottle of Stoli out of his bag.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"You slept with the world's biggest homophobe!?"

"You did what!?" Maureen interjected.

"It's true. And I enjoyed ever single minute of it," Collins said, taking a drink.

"EW! NASTY MENTAL IMAGE!" Mark and Benny said at the same time.

"Whimps!" Maureen said. "Where'd you guys do it?"

"I don't think I should tell you that," Collins said.

"Aw, please!"

"I don't know Mo. That depends on Kevin's feelings."

"What depends on my feelings?" Kevin asked, walking into the loft and giving Collins a quick kiss.

"Who invited him here?" Benny asked.

"I did. You got a problem with it?" Collins retorted.

"Yeah. Why can't I invite Allison over?"

"Cause nobody likes the rich bitch." Everyone, except Benny, laughed again.

"Well, as I said before: What depends on my feelings?" Kevin repeated.

"Whether or not we're allowed to know where you and Collins fucked," Maureen said.

"Did you tell them we 'fucked,' as Maureen so blankly put it?"

"Well, yeah. But, I didn't tell them where. That's up to you," Collins said.

"Oh, I don't mind."

"Seriously?" Roger asked in shock.

"Nope. I'll be glad to tell. You're bound to figure it out anyway."

"Okay. Where?" Maureen asked excitedly. Kevin looked at the couch, where Benny and Mark were sitting, and laughed.

"Come on. Where?" Maureen pushed.

"Right on that couch," Kevin said, laughing.

"Are you serious? Collins, is he serious?" Roger asked, on the verge of laughter.

"Hell yes!" Collins answered, watching Benny and Mark practically jump off the couch.

**"EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!" **the both said as everyone else laughed at them.

"You couldn't make it to a bedroom or something!?" Mark asked.

"You can _never _make it all the way to the bedroom when you've got a boner that's noticalbe even through the most loose fittin' pants you own," Collins explained.

"I need to talk to you," Kevin whispered to Collins. As everyone laughed, Kevin pulled Collins out into the hallway.

"What's up?" Collins asked. Kevin looked down at his feet. "You gonna talk or just stand there?" Kevin took a deep breath.

"Um . . . you know how I kept getting sick?" he began.

"Yeah."

"Well . . . I went . . . to see a doctor to get a test."

"What kind of test?"

"An HIV test." Collins heart dropped. "I got my results back today . . . and the doctor said I should tell you to get tested."

"Did you look at the results?" Kevin nodded sadly. "And?"

"I-I'm . . . positive."

"Oh my God."

"But that doesn't mean you have it. That's why you should get tested. You might've gotten lucky." Collins nodded.

_Lucky? My boyfriend is HIV positive. How the hell is that lucky? _he thought.

"I'll do it, but only if you promise to go with me," Collins said. Kevin grabbed hold of Collins' hand.

"I promise," he said.

_Please let these results come back negative._

* * *

Collins is tossing and turning. I can tell he's in pain. Well, that's what it looks like. His eyes snap open and he stares at the ceiling for a while. He looks scared, or panicked. Something must be wrong.

"Collins, you okay?" I ask. He doesn't answer. He _does _open his mouth as if to say something, but nothing actually comes out. "How ya feelin'?"

"Hot," he whispers. I just barely hear him.

"What?" He turns his head to me.

"Hot," he repeats in what would be a normal voice if it wasn't so raspy. He starts trying to take the covers off of himself. "Hot!" I get up and help him remove some of the blankets. "No blankets! Get 'em off me!" I take all of the blankets off of him.

"Is that better?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"Too hot! Still too hot!" he says.

This can't keep happening to him. First he's hot, then he's cold. Cold, then hot. It seems like it's been going on forever. He wants it to stop, I want it to stop. But, no matter what I do, I can't stop it. All I can do is watch and wait. Watch and wait for my friend to die.

**I'm totally depressing myself right now. That's not healthy. Review this please and there shall be happier flashbacks. You know I'm sorry for all types of mistakes.**


	3. Expiration Date

**This has got to be the saddest thing I have ever written in my entire life. I've read some pretty sad stuff, but I've never written anything that could be considered sad. **

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

"Are you cool yet?" I ask Collins, dabbing his forehead with a cold, wet cloth. I've been doing this for 10 minutes now, which is 7 minutes after he told me that his side hurt really bad and then almost punched me for touching it.

"A little," Collins replies. We both fall silent. After a while, Collins breaks the silence. "Hey, Mark?"

"Yeah?" I say.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For caring. You've always cared. Although, your caring . . . is a little strange at times."

"I bet it reminds you of a paranoid old lady with 27 pets who can't get a date cause she smells like dog shit and cat piss." Collins tries to laugh, but stops himself and grabs his right side.

"God. Don't make me laugh. It hurts," he says.

"I'm sorry," I reply. "Just tryin' to lighten up the mood. Guess it didn't work, huh?" Collins is smiling now.

"It worked," he says. "You cheered me up."

"I did?" I ask.

"Yeah." Collins looks up and his attention remains there.

"What exactly are you lookin' at?" I ask.

"Heaven." He sighs and smiles again. "I'm gonna see her soon Mark. I'll be with her again." I know who he's talking about. Angel. He's telling me that he's gotten worse in a nicer way. "You think she'll be happy to see me?"

I inhale sharply. "I'm sure she will. Unless she's moved on up there," I joke. He smiles at my joke rather than laugh as a nurse walks in the room with a tray.

"Good afternoon Mr. Collins," she says. Collins smiles at her.

"Good afternoon to you too," he says.

The nurse smiles back at him and looks at the window. "Oh. You haven't opened the curtain." She walks over to the window. opens the curtain herself and lets the sunshine in. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"

"It is. It is indeed," Collins says, looking out the window. The nurse walks back over to the tray.

"So, are you going to try and eat something now?" she asks.

"I don't know. I don't have much of an apatite."

"Well, I'll just leave this here and you can eat it whenever you feel you can, alright?" Collins nods and the nurse turns to me. "Are you two close?"

"Very close," I say.

"Are you . . . how do I put this? I don't know how to ask without offending anyone."

"Just ask. If it's offensive, I'll let you know."

"Okay. Are you two . . . lovers?" My eyes widen and Collins laughs. Actually laughs. In his normal laugh. I swear if you could hear it, you wouldn't think he was sick at all.

"No! I'd never date him!" I say.

"Am I not good enough for you or somethin'?" Collins asks, smiling.

"No, you're good enough. It's just . . . how do I say this without being prejudice against your kind?"

"Mark? Are you tryin' to tell me you _would _wanna date me if I wasn't black?"

"That's not what I'm saying!"

"Then what _are _you sayin'?"

"I just honestly would never date you cause . . . well . . . you're gay and I'm not."

"Oh, now I'm hurt Mark. Did you somehow turn into a homophobe?"

"Stop twisting my words!"

"My question hasn't been answered," the nurse points out.

"Sorry. The answer to your question is no. Yes, we're close, but we ain't _that _close," Collins explains.

"Okay. Well since you're close, do you mind if I take him out of the room for a moment?" the nurse asks Collins.

"Go ahead." I follow the nurse into the hallway. She shuts the door and sighs.

"I really don't know how to put this," she says. My heart stops.

"Put what?" I ask.

"Your friend . . . his health, because he has AIDS, is . . . fading faster than doctors expected."

"What are you saying?" The nurse sighs again.

"Tom Collins only has three days to live." My eyes widen and I'm silent for a moment. I pretend she didn't just say that. He's gonna live longer. I know he will. He's strong enough to. But still, it's a possibility.

"Thr . . . why? What happened? He says he's been feeling okay, what's goin' on?"

"He may _feel _okay, but he's _not _okay. I'm really sorry. Should I tell him?"

"No. I think he needs to hear it from me." The nurse walks away and I swear I saw a tear come out of her eye. I walk back into the room and sit down.

"Welcome back," Collins says. I force myself to smile, which is something you should never do around Collins. He can tell a forced smile from a real smile at anytime. "What happened out there?"

"Nothing really. Just medical stuff," I say.

"I'm serious. I can tell when you're hidin' somethin'. You ain't a very good liar." I stand back up and grab Collins hand. "What are you doin'?"

"I'm about to tell you the truth," I say. I take a deep breath. "The nurse told me how much time you have before you . . . um . . . you know."

"I see. Does that amount of time have anything to do with you holdin' my hand?" Collins replies. I nod. "Well, get on with it." I take another deep breath.

"Collins . . . you have . . . three days to live," I say as I watch Collins' facial expression change.

"What?" he says.

"I'm sorry."

"That can't be right. I feel fine!"

"That's what I told her. Apparently, just cause you feel fine, doesn't mean you are."

"Mark, tell me you're kidding!" I'm silent. "Mark, please. Tell me she's wrong." He's on the verge of crying.

"I can't," I say. Tears start to stream down Collins' face. I hate seeing him cry. Yet, I have no choice sometimes. I give his hand a gentle squeeze. "Collins, please don't cry. Try to be happy. You'll see Angel soon." I don't think that was a very smart thing to say when trying to comfort someone who's dying. To my surprise, he somewhat stops crying, though his face is tear stained.

"You're right," he says. I hug him for further comfort.

"Just calm yourself down, okay?" I say.

"I can't."

"Why not?" He's silent for a moment before speaking again.

"I'm scared," he whispers. I've never heard those words come out of his mouth before except when the word 'not' is in-between them. Never side-by-side. I rub his back gently.

"Just be strong. It's gonna be okay," I tell him.

Even though I know pretty damn well by now that it's not.

**So, there was no flashback thingy in this. Oh well. I'll put one in the next chapter. I know this is short and might have some mistakes, but please review my sadness.** :(


	4. Denial

**So . . . it's been a reallylong time since I updated this story. Like a _really _long time. I actually forgot about it. Bad authoress! Bad, bad, bad! Now that that's outta the way . . . enjoy.**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

Running.

That's what it feels like I'm doing right now. It's not what I was planning to do, but considering how much time Collins has left and the fact that I left the room . . . I don't even want to think about it. I just left to get a cup of coffee.

_He couldn't have died within five minutes . . . could he?_

I shake my head to get rid of those terrible thoughts. Collins is the strongest person I know. He'll live longer than three days. I know he will.

_He won't leave me. At least, not yet . . . I hope. _

I get to the door of his room and stand there. My palms are sweaty, my breathing is quicker, and my heart is pounding. I hate leaving and coming back. I never know what I'm going to see when I open the door.

_Calm down, Cohen. Just breathe._

I take a deep breath, grab the doorknob, and open the door slowly. I put my head in the door first, just to make sure everything's okay, and see Collins in the bed where I left him. Only . . . he's shaking.

"Collins?" My voice is barely above a whisper as I allow the rest of my body to come into the room. It's then that I notice Collins is sweating and wrapped in the blankets so tightly that it looks like he's trying to squeeze the life out of himself. I put my coffee on the floor next to the chair I've been sitting in for . . . I've lost count. "Collins, are you hot?" He continues shaking and I can't tell if he's trying to nod or shake his head.

I touch his cheek and my hand recoils almost instantly. He's freezing.

_He needs more blankets._

As I turn to leave again, I feel his hand grab my arm. His grip is much weaker than it was yesterday when he was clinging to me while he cried. I turn and look at him. If my eyes would allow tears to fall, they'd be falling uncontrollably right now. The look in Collins' eyes is one that looks as if he's begging me to take the suffering away. To put him out of his misery. His skin has lost color and I can tell he's in more pain than yesterday. Even a simple motion like grabbing my arm seems to hurt him. How can a person get that much sicker overnight? How?

"M-Mark . . ." he struggles to say as he shivers. "Don't . . . don't . . ." A tear falls from his eye. "Don't leave me." I feel like such a terrible person. I've lost six of my friends and I'm about to lose the last one . . . yet I can't cry. I should be bawling.

"Collins . . . I need to get you some extra blankets," I tell him.

"Mark . . . please . . ." Another tear falls from his eye. "I . . . I don't . . . I don't wanna die . . . alone . . ."

"If you don't let me get more blankets for you . . . you could freeze to death." He continues to shiver, but lets his hand fall from my arm. I walk as fast as I can out of the room and find the nearest storage closet.

_There has to be blankets in here somewhere._

"Hey!" a nurse yells. "What do you think you're doing?"

"My friend needs blankets," I tell her, not even bothering to turn around. I finally find a couple blankets and turn to go back to the room, but the nurse stops me.

"You could've just asked."

"My friend is freezing. Get out of my way." I push the nurse away from me and start walking. She grabs my arm and I turn to look at her. "Get off of me!"

"What is your problem, sir?"

"You! You're my problem! My friend just broke out into a cold sweat and I'm trying keep him warm, but you're asking me all kinds of questions! Get off of my arm and leave me alone! MY FRIEND IS DYING DAMN-IT!" I shove the nurse and run back to the room.

Once there, I wrap the blankets around Collins. I then sit behind him and wrap my arms around him. I want him to be as warm as possible.

"I . . . I remember . . . holding Angel like this," he says, still shivering. I'm quiet in fear of saying the wrong thing. "Can you tell me a story, Mark?"

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Tell me about a time when we were all . . . happy." I'm completely still. "Please, Mark."

"Um . . . okay." I rack my brain for a story from the happier times.

**

* * *

**

_Flashback (Normal POV)_

"Come on, Mark," Angel said, trying to pull Mark out of the armchair he was sitting in.

"No," Mark replied, his hands gripping the armrests of the chair. "I told you I don't go on blind dates."

"But it could be good for you."

"No means no, Angel!" Angel frowned, sat on the beat up couch next to the armchair, and folded her arms across her chest.

"I think you'd really like her," Angel said after a small silence.

"Angel, I'm not going on a blind date with one of your friends and that is that," Mark told her sternly.

"You don't even wanna meet her?"

"No, Angel."

"She's really pretty."

"No."

"Mark, just give her a chance."

"NO!" Angel frowned again as the loft door suddenly slid open. Collins walked in carrying a box with Maureen and Roger not far behind. The first thing Collins noticed was Angel's frown.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked.

"Mark won't give Daphne a chance," Angel explained, still frowning.

"I don't do blind dates," Mark stated flatly.

"You might wanna give it a try, man," Collins said, sitting on the couch next to Angel and putting the box on his lap. "I've seen Daphne. She's hot. And this is comin' from a gay man." Angel looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Of course she's not as hot as _you_, baby."

"Yeah, nice save," Angel replied, rolling her eyes.

"Collins is telling the truth, Marky," Maureen said. "She's _really _hot. I'll date her if you don't want to!"

"Maureen, don't you already have Joanne?" Roger asked.

"What's your point?"

"Never mind."

"You guys can try to convince me all you want, but I'm not going," Mark told his friends. "What's in the box, Collins?" A huge grin spread across Collins' face.

"I've got Stoli, yes I do," he said. "I've got Stoli, how 'bout you?"

"Was the rhyme really necessary?" Roger asked.

"Yes it was." Collins took one of the many bottles of Stoli out of the box, opened it, and took a drink. "Tasty! Who's up for gettin' toasted?"

"I AM!" Maureen practically screamed.

"Me too," Angel said.

"Count me in," Roger put in. "What about you, Mark?"

"No, you guys go ahead," Mark said, getting out of the armchair.

"Mark, it's either go on the blind date with Daphne or get drunk with us," Collins said, taking another drink out of his own personal bottle of Stoli. Mark sighed and sat back down. "Excellent!" Collins poured him a drink and gave it to him.

**The Next Day**

"Should we wake him up?" Angel asked, looking down at Mark, who had fallen asleep in his underwear on the fire escape and was hugging his scarf.

"Yeah," Roger said. "He'll freak out if he wakes up out here."

"Wait!" Collins exclaimed, stopping Roger before he could shake Mark awake. "Let's not wake him up just yet."

"Honey, I don't like that look," Angel said.

"Let's put makeup on his face!" Maureen suggested.

"And then let's draw on him with permanent marker!" Collins added.

"No!" Angel told them. "That's mean!"

"No, that's hilarious," Roger said.

**Moments later**

Mark slowly opened his eyes and shivered. He quickly stood up and practically jumped in the window of the loft. He walked into the bathroom and then saw he'd gotten a make over and a bra had been drawn on his chest. He stormed out of the bathroom to find his friends, who were laughing, waiting for him.

**"I'M GONNA KILL YOU GUYS!" **he yelled.

_

* * *

_

Collins stops shivering a little as I wipe sweat off of his forehead. We're both quiet and I listen to him breathe. His breaths are uneven and shaky. It almost sounds like his lungs are shrinking. The only other sound in the room is the beeping of the pacemaker next to the bed.

"Mark?" Collins says weakly.

"Yeah?" I reply.

"I don't want you to be depressed when I die."

"_If _you die." He's not getting away from me that easily.

"No, Mark. _When _I die. You heard what the nurse said."

"Collins . . . you . . . can't die. I . . ." I can't finish.

"I know you care about me, but . . . I can't stop it, Mark. I'm . . . I'm dying."

"Collins I don't . . . I don't . . ."

"Don't what?" I take my arms from around him and stand up.

"I don't want you to die!" I shout. "I've never wanted you to die! I never thought you would! Not like this! When your test results came back positive . . . I didn't want to believe it! I _didn't _believe it! I've been . . . in denial that you even had AIDS for . . . a really long time. I don't want you to die, Collins! You can't . . . you can't just leave me like this!" There. I said it. It took years, but I said it.

Collins stares at me for a long moment and then puts his hand to his face. A few seconds later he's shaking again, but this time it's from his sobs. He uncovers his face and looks at me, tears pouring out of his eyes.

"You think I _want _to leave you alone?" he asks. "Mark, I never thought I would die like this either, but I'm going to. You just . . . gotta accept that I'm not gonna be around much longer." I look away from him. "Just because I stop living doesn't mean _you _have to. No day but today, Mark. No day but today."

No day but today. Those four words used to mean something. Now they just mock everyone who lived by them. Angel, Mimi, Roger, Joanne, Maureen, and even Benny all lived by them and they're all . . . dead.

I slowly go back to my place behind Collins and wrap my arms around him again. He soon falls asleep in my arms.

And I pray he'll wake up tomorrow.

**That is my update for this story. Review it please.**


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